Star Bar Wars
by Warner Hedgehog
Summary: A very silly parody of Star Wars, which ends the whole thing in the opening scene. Vader and Leia are very 'ish'. Apologies to all Star Wars fans. This is now less shabby than wot it woz.


**Star Bar Wars**

Space, near the vineyard planet of Tattooing.

An epic chase was in progress: a massive Empire Taverns Galacti-Bar was chasing down a Rebel Yell Mobi-Pub. Various shots were being traded between the two space vessels and by all accounts the vastly bigger Galacti-Bar was winning. The small Mobi-Pub seemed to realise it's position was fairly hopeless and appeared to give up. With apparent glee, the Galacti-bar engaged its tractor beam and pulled the smaller ship slowly and surely into a bay on its underside. Inside the Mobi-Pub, a team of space waiters waited near the main hatch, guns drawn, nerves twitching. With an ear-shredding screach, the hatch was blasted into space dust and a squad of Empire troopers stormed in, their shots accurate and deadly, easily subduing the underpowered waiters. Behind them strode the Empire Tavern's much feared black-clad Enforcer of Seemingly Random Rules, Darth Soda. The squad split up in order to search the ship so they could see what was what and grab any important people who happened to be lurking inside.

After about five minutes, a team of troopers frogmarched the Mobi-Pub's captain toward Soda. Darth picked the stereotypical cockney up with one hand and only got a "Do us a favour Guv, whaddya want?" for his trouble.

"Plans were beamed aboard this space boozer, mister. Where are they?" growled Soda.

"Ain't got a Scooby mate. Don't know nuthin' 'bout no plans." squeaked the Captain, somehow managing to shrug.

"Look Buster, Rebel Yell spies transmitted plans for a Fun-Sized Super UltraClub to this shambles of a watering hole. We know they're here. Tell me now!" shouted the Empire bigwig.

"Sorry mate. It's nothin' to do with me. I just drive this thing and that's it." responded the Rebel lummox.

"You won't like this." stated Darth Soda. He reached out, using the mystical power known as 'Sobriety' and induced a massive hangover in the captain. He dropped the unfortunate man into a corner and left him to stew in his own filth.

Another group of troopers mooched up and addressed their boss. "My Lord, we've found these two depressingly ugly droids. The short irritating bleepy one seems to contain the plans."

"What an awful pair of robots. The tall one reminds me of a Build-Your-Own droid kit I had when I was a kid: it even has the same ridiculous accent. I hated that golden berk." Lord Soda paused as the shorter robot spewed a lot of beepy gibberish at him, "Does that little rubbish bin ever stop bleeping?" asked lord Soda.

"Doesn't seem to. Would you like them destroyed?" responded a trooper.

Darth Soda pondered for a second and then answered, "Yeah alright, sounds good. Make sure those plans and these _things_ are history."

The troopers took the droids away for disassembly to a barrage of squeaky noise from their charges. A few minutes later, yet another group dragged a woman toward Soda. She apparently had two Belgian Buns glued to the sides of her head.

"Lord Soda. Only you could be so bold. The very nosy Imperial PR bods will not stand for this days work. When they hear you've attacked a Mobi-Pub, they'll hand you your butt in a sling."

"Says you, hairdo. I own the Imperial PR folks: they're my bitches." snapped Lord Soda, "Anyways, you and your Rebel Yell mates nicked stuff from us and we wanted it back. Now we have it. Simples."

"I don't know what you're gibbering on about" protested the painted tart.

"Oh for the love of...never mind. We've got the plans back, so there. Some cheeky bugger hid them rather badly in that irritating little beeping robot which I may add is about to be vaporised. Look lady, you have a choice: join the Empire Taverns Group or" he paused for effect, "the head of my elite squad will sing to you. In our karaoke bar. Your choice"

"Oh bugger." said the woman with feeling. "I'll join. I've heard him sing."

Darth Soda grinned beneath his mask and clapped his hands together, "Smart move. Right lads. Any booze on board this shed, take it onto our boat along with anything you think looks interesting or useful, then ditch this..." He looked around in disgust, "so-called space pub and destroy it. After that we'll head for Tropicale 7 and have a week long beach party. We need one. Let's boogie."

And so they went and partied.

The End.


End file.
